The Dumont Diaries Novels & Stories

We both looked at the woman in black when she spoke. "Daniell Jane Cruz." My eyes widened when she mentioned my full name. "Cyrille Bertiz." Cyrille and I looked at each other. "H-how did you know our name?" Cyrille asked tremblingly. The woman did not answer. We also couldn’t see her face because it was covered. “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall All the king’s horses and all the king’s men Couldn’t put Humpty together again.” My hand kept shaking. That song

Under a loose floorboard beneath the bed—a hiding spot Maria must have learned from the walls themselves—Evie found a small, leather-bound diary. She flipped through the last few pages. The handwriting was frantic, blotted with tears. April 28th: Master Damien is acting strange. He stays in the library for hours after midnight. I saw him near the Master’s old study... the one behind the hidden panel. He was holding a blowtorch. He looked like a monster.

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.

I know. I grab the remote of the medium-sized TV hanging on the wall, switching it on. Perhaps a little distraction will help, but my jaw drops at the first image on display. The video coverage of my wedding is on display with the huge caption: BUSINESS TYCOON PATRICK BAXTER'S DAUGHTER DITCHED AT THE ALTAR. No... no, this isn't right.

Episode 49 – The Confessional Diary The attic smelled of dust and forgotten things. Ophelia’s fingers traced the spine of a leather-bound journal, its surface cool and smooth, tucked away in a cedar chest that had belonged to her grandmother. She hadn’t been looking for secrets; she’d been looking for old photo albums. But the moment she lifted the diary’s cover and saw the elegant, looping script, her own script, from years ago, a peculiar heat bloomed in her chest.

"Yes, who am I speaking with?" "Oh lovely. I'm Rebecca. Rebecca Dumont." I sit up straight immediately. That name was on Stanley's folder. The Dumonts are practically royalty, with the wealth and status to back them up. They've been long time business partners of the Escarrás and so they have a great relationship with them. Except recently, Rebecca Dumont, the only daughter in the Dumont family, has had to draw a battle line with Diana, for some reasons unknown. Stanley's folder described her as a mischievous, calculating and stunning woman, who loved excitement but over the phone, she sounds so innocent. They were talks of her getting married to Diana's oldest son but the engagement crashed

Damon sat beside her . " Ahem Ahem ...I wanna party a lot ...I know uncle and aunt margie would never let me throw a party and neither do i have friends ....hope i'll make great friends till my next birthday ." read out a Damon mimicing Cynthia holding a diary in his hand .Cynthia stared at him with her mouth wide open . " Bloody hell Damon you stole my journal ." exclaimed Cynthia moving her hand forward to grab the journal back from Damon but Damon moved his hand upward so Cynthia couldn't reach to it .

“The merger in Paris, Sarah’s kidnapping—it was all to get us here.” Dupont’s thin lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The afternoon sun streaming through the dusty windows catches the silver in his hair, making him look almost distinguished. Almost harmless. “Smart boy. Just like your mother. She figured it out too, in the end.” His eyes shift to me. “Both of them did.” “The letters,” I whisper, the pieces falling into place like a nightmare puzzle. “My mother’s letters—you have them.” “Clever girl.” Dupont reaches into his jacket, movements deliberate, theatrical almost, pulling out a weathered envelope. “Your mother was quite… thorough in documenting everything. Insurance

Dmitri gazed at the crusted bloodstains on the rotted wooden floor as Quinn heaved heavily, “I’m gonna puke.” “All of you, leave the room and search the area again,” Dmitri ordered and they gratefully left the room, no hesitation. As much as the smell and sight of this room were awful, he knew he could stand it. Like the other rooms, this study needs to be searched for anything and everything, no matter how disgusting and revolting it is. He made his way over to the large desk that sat on the other side of the room, ignoring the bloodstains and the mummified flesh that has dropped onto it, and rummaged through the yellowed papers of spells and ways to torture and drawings of her victims. Dmi

As he began to sift through the documents, his fingers stumbled upon a worn leather journal, its pages yellowed with age. He opened it and paused when he saw the familiar handwriting. It belonged to Carlotta, so why was it hidden among the newspapers and documents? As he began flipping through the pages, he discovered it was a diary from her youth, filled with memories of joy and laughter. Feeling like an intruder, he decided to put it back, but as he closed it, something slipped out from between its pages and fell to the floor.